M: Then, in
’39, ’40 – in ’42 I left our village. By that time I had some knowledge of
drawing.

F: Mm.
Already in school?

M: Already
in school.

F: Mm.

M: That
school – in those days school was thoroughly European. I left, telling myself
I go (elsewhere). So I came here to Lubumbashi.

F: Mm.

M: When I
arrived here in Lubumbashi
I didn’t see how I could make a living, eat decently, or pay for things.
That’s when I began to improve on my drawing .

F: Mm.

M: With
time, little by little, ( I made some progress) doing pencil drawings and aquarelles
until...

F: (Was
this) for selling?

M: Now and
then some Europeans who liked (my paintings) bought a few, the rest I put
aside.

F: I see.
Where did you live? With...

M: ...I
lived with...

F: ...with
relatives?

M: With
relatives, yes.

F: I see.

M: With a
relative of my father’s.

F: Mm.

M: Yes.
Then, in forty-five, I saw that the war was over.

F: Mm.

M: Many of
the white painters began to put on exhibitions here. They began to paint[4], some of them on the
road(side). I watched them painting and when I compared their work to mine (I
realized) that mine was no good. So, I told myself, that is what this kind of
work looks like.

F: Mm.

M: My effort
were in vain but I stuck to it and [pauses] in forty-five, forty-six, in forty-six
it was when I met a European, his name was Gaston

Prentinx.

F: Prentinx/

M: Prentinx,
yes. Prentinx worked for Cophaco.

F: Mm.

M: For Cophaco,
a company that worked for Gécamines.

F: Mm.

M: Which
used to be Union Minière.[5] So then he said, I see
that the painting you do is quite beautiful but you need someone to advise
you because here (in Elisabethville/ Lubumbashi)
there is no school of art.

F: (Of) art.

M: No. So
then he told me to come to his house and gave me money to buy paints,
canvasses, and brushes.

F: I see.

M: Mm. That
was when I started painting. It was great work. Europeans would come and
bring photos of their wives and children to be painted.

F: So you
did something like portraits?

M: Like
portraits, yes. I was a portraitist at that time.

F: [pointing
to a portrait on the wall] Like the one I saw over there?

M: Yes, like
that one.

F: Mm.

M: Yes.
Better than that one. Because when I worked I was following models such as
the likes of Rubens...

F:
...Rubens?

M: Rubens,
yes and...

F: The
one...

M: ...those
artist of the past...

F: Ah.

M: ..?... I
observed how (they worked)...

F: Did you
copy Rubens at that time...?... or what did you mean (when you mentioned
Rubens)?

M: Copies,
no, just look at the way he had with colors and lines.

F: I see.

M: Looking
at things like that. It’s like when we go to an exposition: You are going to
notice, one artist does it like this, another one like that.

F: Mm.

M: That’s
how I advanced there. Then there was...

F: Where did
you live at that time?

M: He
(Prentinx) rented a house for me on Avenue Tanganyika.

F: Ah.

M: Mm. Where
Avenue Tanganyika
and Avenue Maniema come together.

F: Mm.

M: So that’s
where I lived. Then we come to forty-six. There was a missionary, Father
Baeyens, he was Kipushi.

3. M:
Getting to fifty, [correcting himself] in forty-eight – it was in forty-eight
or rather in - forty seven when Desfossés came (to Elisabethville).

F: Forty-seven

M: In
forty-seven, yes, Desfossés arrived here. ...?...[Prentinx] called on him
saying, I have a youngster who does beautiful drawings. Since you are an artist
come and see how he works, whether he is good. Mm. So, Desfossés came and
said, aah, since I came here (to Lubumbashi)
I haven’t see anyone who paints like he does. That was at a time when I was
working on a portrait. Come (to my place) some day, I’ll show you how to
paint.

F: Mm.

M: But I did
not like it. I said, fine, I’ll come by (some time). Then forty-eight went
by, so did forty-nine. Finally, in fifty, Desfossés and I saw each other
again. When we met he said, oh, you must come, by all means. If you come to
my place you’ll become a real artists, they really will know you [trailing
off]. Then he himself wrote (something) about the way I paint. Don’t buy the
stuff they paint here (he wrote), they are just doing copies, some day
they’ll make money, then again they’ll do [trailing off]... Because he was a
journalist, he...

F: ...who
(was that)?

M:
Desfossés.

F: Mm.

M: Mm. He
kept writing negative things (about local painters). Then Prentinx kept
telling me, if you go on (with the kind of work you are doing now) Desfossés
is not going to like it.

F: Mm.

M: What he
does, (he’ll say) is bad. That’s how it was in those days, there was trouble
in colonial times.

F: Whose
times?

M: Under the
Belgian regime...

F: ...I see,
the Belgians. Mm. [chuckles]

M: So I gave
it up. Then, after I had given it up... [pauses]

F: What did
you give up?

M: I gave up
painting portraits, what not...

F:
[overlapping] ...painting portraits?

M: Mm. He
said, it’s up to you...

F: ...that’s
(what he said)?

M: I gave up
painting. People said, it is you he is writing about and talking like that
because he wants people to get involved in these matters. What he is saying
is they should follow him, instead of (selling our work) cheaply we should
begin to give up our stuff and stop saying (doing things differently) is
expensive and that’s bad.

F: Yes.

M: I
listened to this European and told myself, fine, now I’m going to meet up
again with Desfossés. Come to my place, he said, I’ll teach you. (At the
time) there were some (school) children who came (to his place) – Methodists
and Catholics.

F: Mm.

M: On
Thursdays there were no classes, the children did not go to school. I looked
after those children, showed them how to paint, and that way I taught them.
Then, on Wednesdays, the Catholic children came. They had the afternoon off
and I taught them. So I went on with this and we became friends. He said,
don’t go on painting those portraits and landscapes. Leave that, what you
should do is something you thought up yourself.

F: Mm.

M: So then I
did some thinking but it was difficult. That’s when I began to paint lines
like this.

6. F: And
[pause] (back to) the time when you joined (the atelier of) [searching for
the name]...

M: ...of
Desfossés.

F: Yes,
that’s it. Did you stay on? Did he...

M: Aah, he
told me right away, don’t go anywhere else.

F: Mm.

M: Don’t go elsewhere,
we must stay together (lit. we must stay with me).

F: Mm.

M: Ah, he
said...

F: ... did
he pay you, give you food, or what?

M: No, he
paid a little money.

F: Mm.

M: Because I
had a wife by then, I was married.

F: Mm.

M: He gave
me a little bit of money to help with the food.

F: Mm.

M: Yes.

F: Did he
have, eh [interrupting himself] so, by that time you were already married?

M: Yes. I
got married in the fifties.

F: The
fifties?

M: Mm, mm.
around fifty.

F: I see.
Then...

M: ...?...at
that time there were problems with feeding a married couple ...?... so I
lived by myself.[15]

F: And when
you sold your paintings, who took the money?

M: Ah that
-- (Desfossés) used to take the money.

F: He (did)?

M: Mm.

F: And he
kept it?

M: He used
to put it in his pocket.

F: Eh.

M: All of
it. It was the same with Pilipili, or with Bela, when he organized an
exposition and money came he had it in his pocket.

F: Really.

M: Mm. And
we suffered a lot in those days. We got no money. He said, I give paints to
the painters, I show them the work, the place is mine. All things considered,
it was impossible for us to do well.

F: ...?...

M: ...he was
the one who got the money and sent it...?...

F: ...what
kind of person was he?

M: ...he was
and old man, right? A Frenchman.

F: Eh?

M: He was old,
sixty, sixty-five. [pause]. Perhaps at that time he...?...

M: Everyone,
all of us, among those I met. Still, he gave away a small part of it. If you
got the first prize, from (expositions in) America
or France,
he would give you maybe two thousand Francs. Two thousand Francs.

F: Mm.

M: In the
currency we had then (lit. in old Francs). And he painted nothing. (If he
paid us at all) it was just a small sum. Then he died. Desfossés died in [pauses]
in the year of nineteen hundred and fifty-four.

F:
Fifty-four.

M: Fifty-four,
on March 30, he died. Then there was another person, a Belgian who operated
in the same manner. What he did was a little better in that he worked on
commission. We worked on the paintings and they stored them in some place.

F: (And) he
was the one who sold them?

M: He also began
to sell them.

F: Mm.

M: Then,
when he made a sale and money came it he paid us a little, more than
Desfossés. He would hand out perhaps ten Zaire.

F: Ten
Zaire?

M: Maybe ten
thousand (Francs), maybe five thousand, something like that. What he did was
take out one part to give it to the artists, one to put aside for buying
supplies (lit. other things), and another one for those to whom he owed a commission.
So we kept going until we got to fifty-eight when we went to Brussels, to the World
Fair. When we got back from there his colleagues said, ooh, he is stealing
from the artists, he doesn’t know how to deal with money, he complains about
them.

F: Who said
that?

M: Other
Europeans.

F: Other
Europeans.

M: There was
a conflict with Frère Marc, the one who was in Kinshasa.

F: Frère?

M: Frère
Marc, the one who founded...

F: Marc?

M: Marc.

F: The one
who founded Saint-Luc.

M: Saint-Luc,
yes.

F: Mm.

M: He had
the same reputation there (in Kinshasa).
Ooh, it was said, he takes away the artists’ money. All sorts of things
became difficult and Frère Marc left, I don’t know, for Bukavu or wherever. At
that time Moonens who had headed (the school
of Desfossés) went back (to Europe) for good.

M: Bela – we
now come to fifty-six, right? Nineteen hundred and fifty-six. Bela was angry
because he wasn’t paid well and about everything else regarding the work he
did. He went around complaining about that to others. (Eventually) he saw (no
other way out and told himself) ah, I am leaving. Bela left and, we thought,
he went back to his home country. So he went to Brazzaville
– he was from (Ubangi) Shari.

F: Mm.

M: From Shari. So then he arrived in Brazzaville
and left (again) to join (the atelier) of Alhadeff (in Léopoldville/ Kinshasa).[18] Alhadeff was a
businessman.

F: Alhadeff.

M: A
European.

F:
[overlapping] He is dead.

M: He died?

F: Yes.
...?...

M: Aah, I
see. Alhadeff died? (Anyhow,) that’s where Bela was working, many of Bela’s
paintings are there. Besides, Alhadeff also had other paintings which he
bought from Desfossés. He went with him to that place. All those years Bela
kept working (at Alhadeff’s) until, when the upheavals of war came, ...

F: Mm.

M: ...he
refused (to go on). He no longer thought of going to Kinshasa
and stayed in Brazzaville.
I don’t know whether he finally returned to his home country in (Ubangi) Shari, or whether he died. We don’t know.

F: Mm.

M: Mm.

F: And about
the others?

M: Then
there was Kabala. He also left (Lubumbashi)
during the war and went to Kikondja.

M: Ilunga. Before, he used to be
Ilunga Norbert. I don’t know what his name is now.

F: I see. In
other words, he only paints landscapes?

M: Only
landscapes, yes. ...?...

F: Those
sunsets?

M: Ah,
sunsets.

F: [laughs]

M: ...?...
[chuckles] well. [pauses] Then there was another one, Kipinde. He gave up
painting altogether. He only painted as long as he worked together with
Pilipili.

F: Kipinde?

M: Kipinde.

F: Where did
he come from?

M: He and
Pilipili were both at T.P. ...

F: T.P.?

M: ...at Travaux
Publiques (Public Works), yes.

F: Mm.

M: Their job
was working ...?...

F: ...
working as...

M: ...as
house (painters).

F:
Painting...

M: ...houses.
Then, when Pilipili gave that up and went on to (become an artist) (Kimpinde)
stayed on (at T.P.) as a house painter.

F: Here (in Lubumbashi)?

M: Here,
yes.

F: Ah.

M: It’s a
job...?...Kipinde.

F: No longer
painting (as an artist)?

M: No, he
gave that up altogether. He gave it up.

F: Why do
you think he gave it up?

M: He gave
it up. I don’t know, for many reasons. You know, there are many who like
(paintings) but in a lot of homes you come to you don’t find those kinds of
things. There is no demand for this sort of work. (A painter may) do one
picture and all he thinks of is selling it.

F: Mm.

M: He does
two or three and then tries (to get a good) price depending on how many (he
sells) [chuckles]. That’s how it goes, yes. They don’t know that this is work
like any other. What happens is, when he sees that he has problems selling...

F: Mm.

M: ...he
gives it up.

F: Like
Pilipili?

M: Mm. Like
Pilipili. [chuckles] When he paints he only thinks of selling.

F: Mm.

M: He may do
one painting and (when he notices) that people like it, he keeps on doing
(the same painting). But that’s not how it works.

10. F: And
did you have a youngster who studied (with) you, something like a disciple?

M: There
were many disciples whom I taught but that was not here in my house.

F: Mm.

M: Only at school.

F: At
school?

M: Yes. At
the Academy there were lots of them.

F: (Was
there) one who painted like you, who learned this style of yours?

M: No. I did
not (teach my style). Because we were told before starting to teach, no one
should learn his (teacher’s) style.

F: Who (said
that)?

M:
Desfossés.

F:
Desfossés.

M: Desfossés
said, you must not copy what someone does with whom you study. Now, there is
this one young man in Kinshasa
– you may have seen his work –Mwenze Charles. Charles was my student here at
the Academy. He did two years but was not a good learner. He stayed in a cité
(one of the African neighborhoods). There he tried hard (to get support) from
his relatives. That was during the (Katanga) Secession.

F: Mm.

M: One of
the ministers was his relative. He arranged for him to travel. He got him a
grant and sent him to Brussels.

F: Mm.

M: When he
got to Belgium
he conspired with certain Europeans who lived here and began to do work like
mine. He had some books which they showed to him and that’s what he painted.

F: And he
(worked) under his name.

M: His name,
Mwenze. Well, mm. Then...

F: ...he
painted copies of...

M: He really
copied the name. Everyone said, ah, this how he paints with this technique of
lines, there are the lines. What kind of “technique of lines?” Hm. He was in Belgium,
I live here. Everything he does there passes ...?...as so-called lines.

F: Mwenze...

M: Charles.
Mungolo.. He is in Kinshasa.

F: He is in Kinshasa?

M: Mm.

F: What kind
of work does he do?

M: He is a
businessman over there, running a shop where he sells statues, and....?...

F: Ah, so he
is an art dealer.

M: Mm.

F: Eh, well.
[laughs]

M:
[chuckles]

F: I see.

M: Mm. In –
when was it again? – fifty [pauses] in seventy-one I went to do some painting
in Kinshasa
and visited Frère (Joseph) Cornet.

11. Now.
[pauses] What is it I am thinking about now? I really would like to know
about the time when you chose your style.

F: Mm.

F: How? How
did it come (to you)?

M: Choosing
a style – (it happened) like that. [knocks on table] In an atmosphere of a
lot of criticism.

F: I see. Who
did the criticizing at the time?

M: The local
newspapers, all over Lubumbashi.

F: The
papers?

M: The
papers. Now, Desfossés was behind all this, and some other artists.

F: Which
journals?

M: The
journal Essor du Congo.

F: Essor
du Congo?

M: There was
the Essor du Congo...

F: ... so we
will be able to look this up there in their archive, they (must) have one.

M: I don’t
know. Many years went by and some things got destroyed.

F: Ah
...?...

M: There was
one in the past. Because I would remember something when I saw it.[23] Before, I used to save
all papers. Nowadays, with all this moving around (I lost many). Also, lots
of people came and asked for them. Ah, they said, I am going to return them
for sure, and then went away with them for good.

F: Eh.

M: That’s
how it goes. I had some books, introductions to painting. One after the
other, all that got carried off and nothing is left.

M:
Sartenaer. The other day we visited him. He knows the story of Desfossés. He
knows about it because they were fellow-travelers. But we had a certain lady
here, Madame [searches] Markovitch.

F:
Markovitch?

M:
Markovitch. She was a visiting professor.

F: Mm.

M: She was
(fluent) in French. We went around with her and she wanted to advise me about
this exposition.

F: Mm.

M: To see
how we saw. I said, if you want to know about Desfossés you need to go to
Sartenaer. When we got there, Sartenaer showed her a book. When I asked for
it Sartenaer gave it to me. Then I got to Kinshasa people asked me for it [knocks on
table] and carried it away for good. (I also had) a journal...

F:
[overlapping] ...one for which Desfossés also (wrote).

M: Mm. There
was this journal Courrier d’Afrique, someone took it away and never
returned it.

F: Courrier
d’Afrique.

M: Mm.

F: That’s
how it goes. Now, back to my question about style, how to find a style.

M: It was in
the fifties when I noticed people talking (about me), ah, you really are an
artist, you should find your style.

Find you
style. That’s when....

F: ...do you
have a word for style in Swahili?

M: (It’s)
style, yes.

F: Just mufano
(example)?

M: It’s mufano.

F: Mufano.

M: Style is mufano.
Mm.

F: Ahah.

M: Mm. Your
way of (painting). When people look at it, even though they don’t see a
signature, they’ll say, this one is by so-and-so, he paints like that.

F: Mm.

M: Yes. ...[25] (it’s) distinctive. The
way it is here in Africa, no one has a
(distinctive) style. Everyone paints following the same schema. Maybe you saw
how some European painted (and you follow that). Many (of the painters) in Kinshasa – all they do
is people in a dug-out canoe on some water. That’s why we were told, you
should think up what you do, (work) from imagination.

F: Mm.

M: You must
search for a style, such that, when you look at (a painting) you say,
so-and-so did that. It began with Bela. Bela painted with his fingers.

F: Yes.

M: What this
shows is Bela’s style.

F: Mm.

M: When
people see finger painting they’ll say, without seeing a signature, it’s Bela
who did this.

F: Mm.

M: This is
what we worked on. People should be able to tell an artist from his style.

F: Mm.

M: That
doesn’t mean that we painted in the style of our ancestors or that we did it
because Europeans liked to buy (that kind of work).

F: Mm.

M: You (must
have) observed yourself, there is too much (of that going on) here.

Many of the
Europeans who come through don’t like it.

F: Who (are
you talking about)? What don’t they like.

M: The don’t
like these paintings.

F: The
paintings?

M: Yes. What
they like is a realistic presentation, painting a person like he is. Many
don’t like the way (we) work...

12.
[overlapping] ...and what do you think of Chenge, going on what we came
across at this exposition.

M: This
Chenge is another case. You see,

Chenge did
not paint in this manner, he worked like the people from Kinshasa. He studied at the Academy in Kinshasa.

F:
[overlapping] ...?...

M: At
Saint-Luc. Now, when he had an

exposition
in sixty people did not buy his stuff. They bought his elder brother’s
sculpture because he did beautiful carvings.

F: Wood
carvings?

M:
[overlapping] ...wood carvings, yes.

F: He is the
older brother of...

M: ...the
older brother of the tall one, the painter. He has been selling his things
for quite a while because his work is beautifulwhile the painter (Chenge) had no buyers.
In his view, looking our styles here, I took them for the styles of certain
European painters, for instance of Walter Frank who used to do those bush
fires.

F: Really?

M: Mm. Frank
Walter who (now lives) in Sout Africa.

F: Frank
who?

M: Walter.

F: Walter.

M: Walter,
mm.

F: Mm. Bush
fires, all the time?

M: Bush
fires, all the time.

F:
[chuckles]

M: And
flowers and such things which he did well, he was a good painter. He would
pick up one element here, another one there, developing his style in this
manner.

F: I see.

M: He kept
doing this and people would say, ah, so you are changing all the time.

That’s how
he went on (and on).

F: I see.

M: Mm.

F: In other
words he painted to sell?

M: He worked
for that. He understood what people desired, what they liked, and that’s what
he followed. Now ...[trailing off]

M: They have
paintings. They have paintings but not many, just a few to sell.

F: Mm.

M: Ah, I
like....

F: ...they
only paint...

M: ...to
sell, yes.

F: Are they
young?

M:
Youngsters, yes, perhaps in their thirties.

F: In their
thirties.

M: Mm. They
are married, have wives and children.

F: That is
to say [pauses] – they don’t surpass you?

M: Ah,
that’s something else, because the notion of surpassing...

F:
[overlapping] In all this, young people should always...

M:
...surpass their elders.

F: Right?

M: Often
they don’t want to. Why? They want to sell and that’s it. Look, for instance,
at the (younger) Chenge brother. He stopped (growing as an artist) because he
is obsessed with selling.

F: Mm.

M: He
paints, and he sells. Should I use red (in this painting)? Will Europeans
like that? Are the tourists going to like that? That’s all (that matters). He
sells to make a lot of money. But when it comes to reflecting upon matters...

F: In other
words, he is not a true artist. What is it an artist...

M:
[overlapping] ...there are many who...

F: ...works
for?

M: An artist
(works) in order to improve – how shall I say? – to teach.

14. F: Is an
artist’s strength[28] measured by (his
success) in selling his paintings?

M: No.

F: (Or) is
his true strength (to be found) in the way he thinks? In his innermost
feelings?

M: It’s in
they way he thinks.

F: In the
way he thinks?

M: (In the
way) he thinks. You know, if you take a close look at artists (you’ll see
that) they suffer. This is because an artist thinks and thinks again when he paints,
(only to realize) that’s not it. So he thinks of something else, it is a
constant search.

In come
cases, he just dies.

F: Mm.

M: Without
having found what he was searching for.

F: Alright.
Now, how will make progress here in Zaire? I don’t see it, I don’t
see young (painters who move forward).

M: Mm. In Kinshasa there are young
people who make (at least) a beginning.

F: (If you
look at the graduates) of Saint-Luc, they reproduce (what they learned at)
Saint-Luc.

M: Mm.

F: They
paint beautiful painting to sell them to...

M: ...to
sell them to Europeans. When it comes to making progress – to move forward
those youngsters would first have to resist their desire to sell. Those kinds
of artists are obsessed with moving forward without ever stopping to reflect
on what it is they do. It’s all about selling. Mm.

F: [pause] I
don’t know how this is going to move forward. [pause]

M: So
[chuckles] in your mind they make no progress? Mm. [chuckles]

F: What I am
saying is, I got to know you, Pilipili and some others.

M: Mm.

F: But
[claps]. In every country, right?

M: Mm.

F: There are
artists who may be old but are good. In France, for instance, right?

M: Mm.
...?...

F: ...?...

M: Yes.

F: He is now
very old.

M: Yes.

F: But there
are others who may stick to their style yet they make progress all the time.

M: Mm. They
do.

F: Then,
still others [starts again] I think the kind of painting [we have been
talking about] had its time when the Europeans ruled. Now they are leaving
(taking it with them).

M: Mm.

F: I don’t
know whether this is the case. What do you think?

M: Well,
painting did decline at the time of Independence.
Nowadays people haven’t gotten used (to changing circumstances). They used to
be poor.

F: Mm.

M: People
were poor. When it comes to buying (art) – many an artist survives because
there is someone who adopts him and keeps collecting his work, giving him
money. With that money he’ll be able to eat and continue to work. Now, in our
country here, such people have not come forward. Here, persons like that,
mostly have politics on their minds. Ah, they think, if I do this (or that)
the government will like me.

F: Mm.

M: They’ll
give me money, they’ll set me up so that I can start making money.

F: Mm.

M: Many are
used to (this kind of thinking) nowadays.

F: Many.

M: Once this
European way of life, when we no longer have this situation here, perhaps,
perhaps people will move forward. Even many artists just give up.

You can hear
this also from musicians. When you listen to their songs, they all are
involved in politics.

F: Right
now?

M: Now.

F: I see.

M: This is
not as it ought to be.

F: Mm.

M: When you
sing the thing to do is use your intelligence, sing about what you know (and
understand). There are many who only sing about topics for which a certain
person give them a lot of money. It’s the same with painters. You’ll see that
the painter may do other things but, then, he knows, I should do something
else in order to get paid.

F:
[overlapping and interrupting] ...have you seen such painting here, for
instance, in houses in the townships?

M: No.

F: You
haven’t?

M: Only here
and there. Because what many people like to put is something like a picture
of the president, or some other kind of picture.

F: Yes, but
what I observe now....

M: Still,
nowadays....

F: ...are
real paintings...

M:
...beautiful paintings in the homes (of people)?

F: Not
really beautiful, they are just simple (paintings).

M: Mm.

F: Such as
landscapes. Still, they are original (paintings).

M: They are
good, yes.

F: Right?

M: This is
coming up, sometimes....

F: (But)
have you actually seen that kind of painting?

M: Perhaps I
saw some.

F:...when
you visit (homes), for instance, in the settlement of the KDL (railway
company).

M: Mm.

F: (In
settlements) of the Gécamines, or in...

M: ...yes.
I’ll see them.

F: ...in
other townships.

M: This
happens when some people whose children who get around, go to school, and
come back (with a painting) they picked up telling them, ah, let’s put it (on
the wall). So they put it up in their home. Mm.

16. Ah, I
want to ask you about something I noticed in many of those homes.

M: Mm.

F: I saw one
kind of painting of – what do they call it again? [pauses]

M: Made of
copper?

F: No, that
also, but no – eh, (paintings) of...

M: But many
like to put up images made of wrought copper on their walls.

F: Really?

M: Mm.

F: (Your are
talking) about Europeans, right?

M: Europeans
as well as Africans who come to like them little by little.

F: The
copper sheets.

M: Copper sheets.
They see them in the market. I person goes to the market and there he finds
them (for sale) at thirty Makuta, fifty Makuta, one Zaire, mm. They are
around because...

F:
[interrupting] ...do you like those copper images?

M: I don’t
like them, no.

F: No.

M: No.

F: Why?

M: Sorry?

F: Why?

M:
[chuckles] They are like baubles.

F: Baubles.

M: ...?...

F: Like
souvenirs.

M: Mm. They
are made by artists...

F: Yes.

M: ...who
come from Zambia
and sell them here.

F: Who was
the first to work with this technique of beating copper?

M: Ah,
copper?

F: Where did
it start? Here?

M: Here,
yes. It started here with a European by name of Charlier.

F: Charlier?

M: Yes.
Charlier worked with an architect...

F: Was it
Charlier or Carlier?

M: No,
Charlier.

F: Charlier.

M: Charlier,
the one who was the director of the Academy of Fine Arts
here.

F: I see.

M: After
Moonens had left there several other directors, all of them left, only
Charlier stayed. Because the last one (before him) was scared of the fighting
in sixty.

F: In sixty.

M: Yes. He
fled and then Charlier stayed on as director.

F: Mm.

M: We went
on (working) under Charlier until we got to the seventies, seventy-one it
was.

F: Mm.

M: When a
colleague of his, one of his professors organized a group.

F: Mm.

M: You, they
said, are going to direct (a branch of) the Academy. You’ll be director in
Kenia township, or in Katuba, things like that. They worked against him[33] and fired him from his
post as director.

F: Mm.

M: When the
matter was investigated it was found that the fault was not with Charlier but
with that professor who got him fired.

F: Mm.

F: That’s
what people said. Charlier left for Kinshasa
where he became a counselor of (the Academy of) Fine Arts (there).

F: (This
happened) recently?

M: Recently,
yes. Now he is in Kinshasa.
Then this professor also got fired. He is now in Kikwit, I don’t know.

F: Kikwit.

M: He is a
professor there.

F: So,
Charlier was the who introduced this...

M: He
introduced (this technique) of...

F: ... [in
French] beating.

M: of
beating...

F: [in
Swahili] beating...

M: ...
images in copper.

F: Was that
in Kansenia?

M: That’s
were Charlier taught it, in Kansenia.

F: [overlapping]
He (taught) in Kansenia.

M: In
Kansenia.

F: That was
long ago, there was a certain Brother (who directed the school there).

M: At the
ministry, or rather monastery of...

F: ...the
monastery of the Benedictines.

M: Of the
Benedictines.

F: There was
a certain Brother and they had...

M: He was
the one.

F: ...lots
(of students).

M: Ah, they
had many (students) there. This Brother – I don’t remember his name – had
many students. That’s where Charlier taught, among others, a certain Kakompa.
He is now a teacher of ...?... in the jail. In Kasapa [corrects himself],
in...

F:
[overlapping] In a jail?

M: In
Buluo...

F:
[overlapping] at Likasi?

M: At
Likasi, mm.

F: Really? (And
they teach) sculpture?

M: Yes. Yes.
He and Charlier used to teach at the same school?

F: So
(Kakompa) was also at Kansenia?

M: He was a
Brother at Kansenia.

F: What is
his name again?

M: Kakompa.

F: Kakompa?

M: Kakompa.

F: And he is
a teacher in a prison.

M: In a
prison, yes, teaching inmates to carve those statues.

F: Kakompo?

M: Kakompo.

F: (I am
asking) because in sixty-six.

M: Yes.

F: I bought
(in Likasi)....

M: Yes.

F: A
relief...

M: ...of
...?...

F: ... a
wood (carving).

M: Ah, that
was his.

F:
[overlapping] ...?...

M: That’s
him, Kakompa.

F: It came
from the prison?

M: Mm.
That’s Kakompa/

F: Kakompa?

M: Kakompa.

F: He still
lives there, right?

M: He still
lives in Likasi.

F: Mm.

M: I used to
have his address, I don’t...

F: ..., ah,
maybe when we come through their again we can ask (for it).

M: Ask for
it, yes. You’ll get it.

F: And
(where) did he learn his work?

M: He
learned to beat copper in Kansenia.

F: In
Kansenia.

M: Charlier
was also in Kansenia and they knew each other quite well.

F: Mm.

M: So, then
(Charlier) came to this place to work with an architect by the name of
[Claude] Strebelle. There he did...

17. F: There
was something else. Ah, I forgot (to ask you), about the subject (or topic of
a painting), right?

M: Mm. Mm.

F: Where
does that subject come from? How do you choose it? I am asking because I see
those animals (you paint). Now, you an urban person, right?

M: Mm.

F: You
live...

M: ...in
town, yes.

F: In town,
right? You don’t meet...

M:
[chuckles] ... [you tell yourself] he doesn’t often see those...

F:
[overlapping] ...those wild animals, right?

M: Mm. Ah, I
have seen wild animals in the past. Often I work from the memories I have of
what I saw in the past.

F: I see.

M: For
instance, things (I saw) in the old days. I left the village at the age of
sixteen. By the time I was fifteen or even ten years old I had seen everything.

F: In other
words, you bring up...

M: Mm.

F: ...you
brought up those memories.

M: Well,
yes. Mm. However, if I call up (memories) this is because I really don’t like
what people do in town, you understand?

F: Mm.

M: I like
those many who are like (people) in the villages. When you go to a village
and come back you realize that people left for the world of the white man are
all alike. What I have in mind when I paint are those who haven’t left for
the world of the white man.

F: I see.

M: Yes.

F: So, let’s
stay (with the question) of the topic.

M: The
topic. In the end we are going to change because it will be all alike, here
the same as in the village, in the village the same as here.

F: Mm.

M: We are
going to change then.

F: Mm. And I
think that a painting of yours comes with a story, doesn’t it?

M: Yes. It
has a story. Take this one, for example [points to a painting].

F: One like
that, (a good example).

M: Regarding
the subject of this painting. do you see it? It is people in a village. Here
in town you don’t have people like that. It shows that (villagers) are poor.
They have neither cars nor trucks to put their things in and transport them.
They themselves carry (their loads).

F: They
themselves carry them.

M: Ah, they
moved from their village, from the place they used to live, and are looking
for another one.

F: ...?...

M: And they
take their goat(s) with them.

F: I see.

M: The take
their goats and carry their belongings, back and forth until they have moved
their things.

F: Ah.

M: Mm. Mm.

F: In other words.

M: Even....

F: ...in
other words, every painting has its story?

M:
[overlapping] It comes with its story, yes.

Then, take
this one (showing) a hunt[35]where a man is up in a tree and the animal

passing on
the ground.

F: Mm.

M: Mm.
That’s what people in the village do. Here in town there are many who don’t
know this.

F: Mm.
Whereas in a village they know. In a village they know where animals cross.

F: Mm.

M: They are
feeding or whatever. So (the hunter) comes to a tree and climbs it.

F: Yes.

M: He decides
on a position in the tree and then climbs it. When the animal crosses
below...

F: Mm.

M: ...he
kills it.

F: I see.

M: Mm.

F: Or they
set traps.

M: Or they
set...

F: ...traps.

M: (Or) put
out snares. One may also dig holes, things like that. This looks easy when one
observes people. They take a look, ah, they say, this is....

F: That’s
how it is, baba.

M: Mm.

F: And where
does a story come from?

Do you have
it to start with or do you first think it up?

M: Mm.

F: And then
you ...?...

M:
[overlapping] Yes, then you put it down on paper. You imagine how a man goes
(hunting). What is in his mind when he sees a tree and then animals crossing.
I make a drawing (of that).

19. F: Ah,
(let’s get back to) those paintings I saw in people’s homes.

M: Mm.

F:
Everywhere. The ones called Mamba Muntu.

M: Aaaah.

F: Have you
seen them?

M: Ts, those
are....

F:
[overlapping] What are they about?

M: They are
about, they are about [pause] about nothing really.

F: About
nothing?

M: However,
it is true, about mamba muntu there is a story in the villages, you
understand?

F: I see.

M: In that
case (we talk about) a certain matter of magic in a village, (especially) in
villages near water. There are people who work a (kind of) magic – it may be
true or whatever. [pauses]. People going near the water get caught and die.[36] That was mamba muntu,
they say, who took him away.

F: I see.

M: But it is
people who work the magic...

F:
[overlapping] ...In other words, mamba muntu was like [in Luba] a
spirit...

M: At a
place where many people go to wash, ah, there is there is bound to be one who
is evil and kills people.

F: Mm.

M: He goes
there and can kill a person. He shows something he carries on his head. So he
goes into the water and when he shows (himself) people say, ooh, there is a mamba
muntu.

F: Mm.

M: Mhmmh.
[chuckles]

F: ...?...

M: But it
was is a person who killed people.

F: Yes.
Still, there is something I don’t really understand. Why does (mambamuntu)
look like a European lady?

M: Well.

F: ...?...
she always (is shown) in this posture. [demonstrates]

M: Yes, like
that.

F: With the
hairdo...

M: Mm.

F: Of a
...?...

M:
[overlapping] Mm. Ah, that is how she appears in books.

F: And big
breasts.

M: And
breasts.

F: And the
watch (she wears).

M: Yes, look
(at her).

F: Right?

M:
[chuckles] This is how they ...?... in books (you find) here.

F: So people
saw this in books?

M: In books,
it is something you see in books.

F: Where? I
never saw her (in a book). Who started (to paint) these pictures? I have seen
them all over the place.

M: All over
the place, yes.

F: Where did
this come from?

M:
[chuckles] It came from the people here...?...

F: ...?...
in Lubumbashi?

M: I saw
(representations of mambamuntu) in lots of books here.

F: I see.

M: You are
going to see a particular European, a certain lady they are painting here...

F: Ah,
yes...?...About the purpose of the watch...

M:
[overlapping] And the watch. Ah, people (just) add that.

F: And the
snake.

M: Mm.

F: Isn’t
there a snake?

M: Yes. It’s
the painters themselves who put that in.

F: So you
don’t know who started this? It’s like a business, right?

M: Ah, it’s a
business, yes. It’s business. It hasn’t been around for long. They turn them
out and go to Zambia
to sell them. I don’t know the person who started this. It’s just the young
people who sell (them) in the local market.

F: Mm.

M: One of
them paints her...

F:
[overlapping] ...is there just one (painter) who does that or are there many?

M: Aah,
there are many.

F: Many
paint (her).

M: Many.
Even some who don’t know (how to paint).

F: And ....

M: There are
just lots of them.

F: Yes. And
what do people say (about mamba muntu)? That she is a kind of magic
charm?

M: Yes, a
magic charm, mm. That’s how people see it. Aah, mamba muntu, (they
say), yes. They buy (those painting) because they are ignorant. They don’t
know what art is, they are ignorant.

F: Mm.

M: Then a
person may marvel at mambamuntu, that’s all. People keep buying
(the pictures) just to put them up in their homes...

F:
[overlapping] ...?...but (if it is) a magic charm, what it is for?

M: If I buy
one I put it up, that’s all there is to it. One knows this is a mamba
muntu charm.

F: Mm.

M: So they
keep painting mamba muntu charms. It’s like when one buys a statue.[39]

M: No, they
were not in the business of trading paintings. To this day, I never saw a
Senegalese here coming (to me) to buy a painting.

F: Not yet?

M: No.
That’s not what they are buying, only statues mostly, and a few beaten copper
sheets.

F: I see.

M: And even
those they don’t buy if the price is too high.

F: (Mainly)
old statues.

M: Old
(statues). Oh, (to get those) they might give local people as much as three
thousand Zaire
and tell them to find some.

F: Mm.

M: A person
would then go and buy them in the bush and bring them back for him. Mm.[41]

[1]
The French terms dessin, dessiner Mwenze uses throughout this
conversation pose problems of translation. In a narrow sense they refer to “a
drawing, to draw” but in other contexts they can also mean “a picture or
painting, or to paint.” This usage may have biographic and historical reasons
in that Mwenze (as well as Congolese in general) were prompted by colonial
school teachers to do drawings before they were introduced to painting.

[2]
The colonial administrative terms Mwenze uses were chefferie and territoire,
both part of a district.

[3]
We use the local term Spilinga (he pronounces it Sipiringa),
after Bischop John M.Springer, founder of the Methodist mission in Katanga (in
1917).

[4]
Throughout our conversation Mwenze used kufanya, “[o]ne of the commonest
verbs in Swahili, always implying some result, purpose, or object beyond the
mere act” (Oxford Standard Swahili Dictionary). When the context is clear I
translate it as “to paint,” “to work,” or “to do (a painting).”

[5]
Everything “worked for” the Union Minière in those days. It is possible that
Mwenze meant Prentinx worked at branch of Cophaco (Compagnie Pharmaceutique du
Congo) in one of the company’s miners’ settlement.

[6]
Father Pierre Baeyens, a Salesian missionary, arrived at Kipushi in 1947. I was
unable to trace Gaston Prentinx.(could also be “Prenticks”).

[31]
I was talking about my first research project on the Jamaa movement, most of
whom were worker in the mines, ordinary people, not bakubwa. Mwenze
understood bakubwa in opposition to batoto, adults vs. children.

[32]
Though the transcript seems clear I am unable to translate what Mwenze says.

[35]
Mwenze speaks of a method he calls chasse
à la file which I could
not find in French dictionaries though German has Ansitzjagd: instead of
stalking the animal the hunter waits for it to come close to his hiding place.
A literal translation of the French phrase could be “hunting while waiting”
like in file, queue.

[36]
An awkward sentence in the original; pronominal markers of person and
singular/plural are all mixed up and I never encountered the suffix –no
(here in banakufano, they die.

[37]
The polysemic term Mwenze uses in this exchange is dawa, magic charm, medicine
(traditional or modern), any substance used in magic or sorcery.

[38]
The leopard people about whom we talk in the following also came up in
conversation with Tshibumba: